When You Were Young
by the-last-garrison
Summary: The blood in her veins meant that she had been on the run for her entire life, until she is captured and kept under a watchful eye at Hogwarts. Tortured, beaten and humiliated by the Order. She would endure. If you've ever felt alone. If you've ever felt defeated. If you're ever felt betrayed. Be prepared to feel.. Rated M for sex, violence, language. Book 4-Book 7.
1. Chapter 1

She was woken in the night with fervor, far past when the moon could have illuminated the world.

Everything was all black and perspiration and she could feel insects crawling along her arms—crawling into her long, dark hair.

The wizard hurried her, his long greying hair falling into his dusty face.

"They have found us, my girl," he wheezed, limping from a curse that had struck his leg. "They are coming for us. You must move, quickly!"

The young girl scrambled from her resting place on the floor of the barn, already dressed in the clothes she had been wearing for six weeks. That's how long they had been on the run from _them_. A pair of worn dark jeans, an airy shirt and climbing her boots were all that protected her from the Australian summer.

In six weeks, the pair had been chased to three different continents, and the Arctic. Now here they were, scrambling for their lives in a dusty Muggle barn in the state of Southern Australia.

Handing her a rucksack and his wand, he urged her to go on without him.

"No!" She cried. "No, I can't go without you, we can stop the bleeding, we can make it!"

The aging wizard blew into his mustache. He was pale, and unable to stand any longer, he collapsed from his own weight. With the last of his strength, he commanded her to go.

"Leave now, or your whole life will be in vein. You know what to do." He pointed to the direction in which she should flee, outstretching his forearm in the process. A dark mark scarred him.

Without a second thought, knowing that pleading further would mean weakness, the girl kicked up dust as quickly as she could and made a bolt for the exit of the barn, straight into the open outback—straight into a trap.

The flash of a curse whizzed past her ear.

Ducking, she saw from the corner of her eye wizards and witches descending upon the barn in which her only comrade had fallen—they were descending upon her. There was no running now. Now, there was only fighting.

Whirling back around, she sent curses flying in random directions, doing her best to aim for bodies when she could make them out in the darkness.

Light flashed around her, flying this way and that. After several seconds, it became clear that these people were not trying to aim for her at all, but to aim around her. They were corralling her in; trying to corner her in a place with no corners. Her head darted about, looking for an opening in her attackers' ranks that now encircled her.

No exit?

Make one.

" _Confringo!_ " An orange explosion burst from her wand, causing an opening in the encirclement to open, one way or another. Through that way, she bolted, leaping over bodies that now lay lifeless. This was the cost of who she was. This was the cost of her blood.

Running was her only option, as there were no vehicles nearby and she didn't know how to Apparate on her own. There was only so much mischief a witch could get into at the age of fourteen, and learning curses on their own was hard enough.

She tore through the Outback, sprinting as fast as she could. Her legs were no use though, not in comparison with the force of the hex that brought her down—hard.

Everything went foggy.

The last thing she remembered is someone giving her a good kick to the ribs, and the force of them cracking underneath their boot.

Yelling.

Wailing.

A pair of arms lifting her.

Apparating.

Being sick.

Vomiting.

Someone swearing.

Someone hitting her with a curse, causing large lacerations to tear her body open.

More swearing.

And then nothing.

She had been in and out of consciousness for what seemed days, until finally waking up in the one place she had always been told not to go. The one place that would mean the end of her. She looked around, unbothered by the fact that she was covered in her own blood, muzzled and tied up securely in a bewitched straight jacket.

This was by far the most interesting place she had ever been in, even if she was tied up. It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of strange noises coming from all sorts of little silver instruments and odd knick-knacks. The walls were covered with portraits of old people, probably now dead, all whispering to each other—staring at her.

She was bleeding on a claw-footed chair in front of an enormous desk—she could see her wand had been confiscated and placed there—, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby brown wizard's hat, which did not look much too happy to see her.

No one here looked happy to see her.

Most people she had come into contact with in her first fourteen years of life didn't.

"Juliet d'Aragon," said a voice, old and stern. Out of all the people in the room, it came from the man standing before her in long, purple wizard robes.

Albus Dumbledore.

Juliet could do nothing but glare at the wizard menacingly, as her mouth was gagged and muzzled to prevent any screaming and swearing as the hearing proceeded, and you know…spitting and biting.

"My dear, try not to look so upset. It was this," he gestured to the ceiling with both hands. "Or Azkaban."

At this point, Juliet would have actually preferred Azkaban.

Dumbledore continued. "As the only offspring of the witch Estella Maurelle d'Aragon, and the dark wizard Tom Marvolo Riddle, we are all in quite a bit of trouble here, aren't we." He took a seat on the corner of his desk, folding his hands over one another and looking down at Juliet through the halfmoon glasses balanced on his nose.

There was dark red blood oozing into her eye from a laceration on the top of her head. She blinked it away, twitching slightly at the name of her mother.

Estella Marielle d'Aragon was famed for her beauty, but mostly for her family's vast amounts of wealth. Purebloods descendent from French and English royalty, the d'Aragon family gave up their only daughter at the tender age of sixteen in order to bare the Dark Lord's heir. She had been killed in a duel when her only daughter was a mere toddler.

In regards to her father, Juliet knew perfectly well who he was. The remainder of her father's loyalists had seen to just that.

Because of this, Juliet d'Aragon had spent her entire life on the run, being hunted like an animal. She thought about the places she'd been, and the protectors—ex-Death Eaters—she had lost along the way. She thought about how angry she was. So angry, that she didn't realize that she was seething, her dark eyes bloodshot and watery, her arms straining against the magic that kept her bound.

If not for the restraints, Juliet would have leapt for the old man's throat by now.

"Juliet," said Dumbledore, catching her attention and snapping her back to reality. "Before you were born, your mother came to me seeking help—safety and shelter for you. I had made a grave mistake in denying her that. I implore you to believe me when I say that those who you have been told are your allies, are really your enemies. We are not here to hurt you. We are here to protect you. And the best way to do that is to keep you here, and enroll you as a student. There is no safer place for you from the people who want to hurt you other than Hogwarts."

Juliet almost began to hyperventilate, violently jerking against the restraints.

Those around her, professors of the school, pointed their wands at her in anticipation of her trying to attack the Headmaster.

"Your home is now Hogwarts. But because of your unique circumstances, there will be some additional restrictions and rules. You are not to leave the grounds. You are not allowed a wand before or after class hours. And you will report to your keeper, Professor Severus Snape, every night, without failure. As an underage witch, there is no choice in this matter."

 _Severus Snape._

She knew that name.

It was the man standing adjacent her.

He was like a shadow, dressed in all black and hovering next to her. She did her best to not look over at him.

It was Professor McGonagall who brought the Sorting Hat down from the shelf over the Headmaster's desk and held it gingerly, trying her best to calm the sour hat. He was not very happy about having to sort this girl. Dumbledore had asked the hat to do this as a special favor.

Juliet flinched away from the enchanted article when Professor McGonagall brought towards her, as if it was going to hurt her. No one could really blame her, most people in her life had tried to hurt her.

Dumbledore nodded, and the hat was placed carefully atop her bloody dark hair.

" _Get out," Juliet commanded._

" _I wish I could," the hat retorted. "You don't deserve to be here."_

" _You don't know anything about me," she spat._

" _Ah," concurred the hat. "But I'm about to."_

The hat searched her head.

Her memories.

Her mother dying violently in a duel before she was even of legal age to use magic. Consistently leaving behind all she knew. Finding ways to dull the pain.

No home. No family. No friends.

Her emotions.

Lose something?

Suck it up.

Lose someone?

Suck it up.

Are you in pain?

Suck it up.

Are you tired?

Suck it up.

Want to give up?

Suck it up.

Are you scared?

Be brave.

Be brave.

 _Be brave._

The hat was silent for a long time. Juliet had an expansive mind, one that was deep and dark with all of the worst kinds of happenings and fears that someone her age should not have had. It wasn't her fault that she was like this. The way she was, the things she had done in order to get here—it was all fed to her through other sources; through fear.

She just had to be brave.

The hat finally spoke, much to the shock and horror of everyone present.

"Gryffindor."

And so her nightmare began.

* * *

 **Hope that everyone enjoyed so far! This is something I've been sitting on for a long time and finally want to bring to fruition. Please let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Albus," Mcgonagall wheezed after all the staff had gone and Snape had escorted a very pissed off Juliet to her quarters. "Do you think it wise to be doing this, to be keeping her here? I mean, why Hogwarts? Could not the French, or even the Americans have taken her? For Heaven's sake, the girl tried to assault you just now!"

She was referring to the fact that when let go from her jacket so that she could get up and walk, Juliet had made a lunge at Dumbledore, only to be knocked off balance by a curse thrown by Snape. He would do well at his new job as her keeper.

The Headmaster shrugged. "Spirited, isn't she."

Mcgonagall sighed in exasperation. " _Spirited_ is not exactly the word that comes to mind. _Beastly_ and _unruly_ is more like it."

Only having been at the school two hours in advance of the normal influx of students, Juliet had made three escape attempts, bitten two professors hard enough to draw blood, tried to hit Dumbledore with a serious right hook, and broken a window in the girls' dormitory with her bare hands.

Everyone looked in the other direction when Snape took her into the potions classroom later that evening and gave her a beating for her outburst.

The faculty were not too bothered by the girl getting what was coming to her.

"And why do you think she is so _beastly_ and _unruly._ It's because that is all she knows. We can change her, Minerva. She will come to our side, in time," said Dumbledore, reassuring the worried professor. "The girl will prove to be useful in the battle to come."

Mcgonagall was horrified. "What do you suggest, we _tame_ her? It's not in her blood to be tamed."

"No," agreed Dumbledore. "It is not. But it is in her blood to do great things. And whether they are good or terrible will be up to her. It is our job to steer her towards the more favorable." Dumbledore implored her to trust him. She always did, but this was something that she would have to question him in, repeatedly.

"But _Gryffindor_? Her father…the girl has the blood of Salazar Slytherin."

Dumbledore turned away from Mcgonagall, pretending to admire one of the ornate glass windows. "We seem to forget that we are not who our parents were, but who we are. His blood may run in her veins, but she is her own person."

The witch was quiet.

"Worry not, Minerva. Severus will deal with her. I trust him with her life, and the life of this school. Now…I believe we have some visitors we must attend to."

A flying carriage led by winged beasts flew past the window, coming in for a landing on the school's grounds.

* * *

Snape forcefully tossed a set of gold and red school robes at Juliet.

"Wash. Then change. If you are not finished and out of this door in one hour, you will wish you were never born."

That was Snape being polite. He turned and then exited, locking the door behind him. This was the Prefects' bathroom on the fifth floor, far from where any other students would go snooping and find her on the first evening of the term. Warm water and iridescent soap were running into the center bath, filling it and the room with the scent of lavender and aloe.

Juliet wiggled out of the straight jacket that Snape had undone for her. She stared at her naked reflection in one of the mirrors. The sight was not pretty—not by anyone's standards.

The laceration on her head had at one point stopped bleeding, but when Snape had hit her over the head as her punishment for her outburst in Dumbledore's office, it had opened again and now oozed down the side of her face. She smeared the blood with one hand. Purple and red bruises the size of melons formed over her shoulders where he had repeatedly slammed her into the stone walls. The skin of her left hand had been torn to shreds when she had punched through a window in the girls' dormitory. Snape did not bother to mend it. In the center of her forehead was an abrasion, the result of the professor taking her by the back of the head and slamming her head down face-first on a bench.

"This is your life now," she mumbled to herself. This was a statement of acceptance, not of compliance. "Find a way to gain from every situation, no matter how dismal."

 _Be brave_.

Climbing into the tub hurt less than anticipated, but more than she was able to handle. Sitting down was not an option—her muscles would not allow it. There was a wash basin perched on the edge of the tub next a clean towel. Filling the basin with a scoop of warm water, Juliet raised her arms as best she could and poured the steaming bath over her back, seeing stars when every nerve in her body was stimulated.

Dirt and blood leaked from every pore, washing into the water and turning it a murky shade.

The next basin full of water was poured over her head, stinging the gash on her hairline. It felt like what she guess Heaven was like. Juliet hadn't washed since the safe house in Chile. That had been two and a half weeks ago. Combing her fingers through her hair, she unmated the strands as best she could.

It was warm in here, the remains of sunlight shining through the windows.

Pictures of mer-creatures and scenes of the Black Lake were pieced together in colored glass, reflecting different colors of light on her dewy skin.

* * *

There were two doors to the fifth floor Prefect's bathroom, even though only one was ever used. The other door was tucked away in the corner of the corridor, and not exactly easy to access. Unless you really needed to hide from Filch. Then dive for cover as fast as possible.

Lost in thought on his way to see Dumbledore about what had happened at the Quidditch World Cup and wanting some alone time after a most eventful supper, Harry Potter had found himself down an only vaguely familiar corridor, on a completely different floor. And if Filch was whistling this way, then it was guaranteed he was not supposed to be there.

Ducking for the first door he could see, he found himself in the Prefect's bathroom, although he was not alone. There was someone standing there, naked in the tub.

A girl.

He found cover in a crevice behind a stone wall, careful not to make any noises that would startle her. Unable to go back where he came from and unable to go forward, Harry was stuck where he was.

To his disbelief, it seems that she had heard him, and turned around at the sound of his breathing.

The girl was staring directly at him, completely exposed.

She had long, dark hair, slicked back and glistening with the weight of soapy water. Strands clung to her face and neck, a stark off-set from her pale skin. Between her equally as dark eyebrows, there was an abrasion that looked new. Harry had had his fair share of wounds and injuries over the years and knew full well what they looked like in all stages of recovery. His glasses fogged slightly as he examined her shoulders—her collarbone, trying his best to keep his eyes where they belonged.

At his age, he couldn't help it if he just slipped slightly, catching the sight of her bare breasts…oh, and the thin frame around them. But mostly her boobs.

This girl was rather small for their age, which by her height and facial structure, he guessed that they were about the same year. Harry knew what being too thin was like, too. It reminded him of his continuous years at the Dursley's. The nights without supper, or breakfast and lunch, for that matter.

Juliet could tell where the boy was staring, and casually covered herself with her arms. Her hand bled over her stomach.

Harry stuttered, thinking it best to say something. "Uh…your uh…your h-hand. It's…—"

"Yeah," she concurred, a single sound.

A furious blush raged on Harry's face.

"Uh, ye-yeah. I, uh…I was just—…brilliant," he concluded, fidgeting uncomfortably. He had conveniently forgotten that he had the ability to turn around. Juliet slowly picked up the towel on the edge of the tub, wrapping it around her as carefully as possible.

School robes sat folded neatly nearby.

Gold and red.

"Are you hiding from someone?" she asked, interrupting Harry's concentration on her robes. It was very rare that she had encountered someone who was near her own age. In fact, he was the first in a very long time. But before he was able to answer with another stumbling stutter, the opposite door to the bathroom had been flung open. Snape appeared, and Harry stumbled.

He trudged towards the two, stepping in front of Harry's view of Juliet. The teacher grabbed the boy by the collar and swore at him, sweeping him out of the room in just a few strides. The door slammed behind them, and Snape cast a locking charm on it so that Juliet could not leave.

"Potter," he spat Harry's name. "You little _pervert._ What do you think you're doing here at this hour?!"

"Professor, I—"

"I don't care. You will return to your dormitory and will not leave for the rest of the evening. If I catch you out and about again, you will receive detention every day for a month. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry shook his head vigorously, and Snape let him go. The professor watched as Harry walked away, heading in the direction of the Gryffindor common room. That was one taken care of. Now the girl.

When Snape stalked back into the bathroom, Juliet was dried and dressed in new underwear and a brassiere, stark white and powdery. Opaque tights covered any markings on her legs. Her long dark hair had been washed and was now drying atop her head in a bun, covering most of the laceration Snape had given her. She had just pulled her skirt up around her hips when Snape pulled out his wand and brought it to her throat.

Juliet stopped moving, and thought about what was there in this bathroom for her to hit him with.

"Stay away from that one," he threatened, his stale breath filling her nostrils. He had made it a point to not give out names. "Stay away from the other students. If I catch you plotting anything—anything at all—you will suffer, greatly."

Her eyes were dead.

"Whose allegiances do you even lie with, Severus?" She finally whispered, searching him for an answer. He gave none.

With that, he hurried her to finish dressing, and escorted her out of the bathroom. His wand ever at the ready.

* * *

 **I think about 14 is when we all start to get curious about the other sex or people around us in general.**

 **They're young teenagers, so definitely expect a lot of looking up skirts and being curious about boobs and asking each other about erections and their periods in the first ten or so chapters.**

 **Each "book" will take about ten to fifteen chapters to complete, and that's not including events in the summer and on holidays. So glad to have you along for this ride.**


	3. Chapter 3

Word about the Tri-Wizard Tournament was all she heard from her classmates the next few days, whether it be from the front of the classroom, where she was required to sit in all lessons so that the professors could watch her, or at supper.

Juliet was sat closest to the head table where Dumbledore and the rest of the staff sat. She was always the first one into supper, and the last one out. It had been two days in this new place as a prisoner, and she hadn't taken a single bite of food. Staring down at the hen and potatoes on her plate, Juliet had been known to eye the knife in her place setting instead of eating.

As a result, the knife was removed from her setting at the table.

Dumbledore's hope was that Juliet could be integrated into the school and a normal life as a young witch as easily as possible. And if that meant removing sharp objects from view, then so be it. But normal wasn't so easy when all that her peers did was talk.

Ron had been berating Harry for information for about the umpteenth time that evening.

"Okay, but what did she look like?" Asked Ron somehow through a mouth full of potato. After being friends with him for this long, Harry could decipher his speak even though a mouth full of food, just as well.

"I dun' know," shrugged Harry, taking an unsteady breath. "She had black hair, and a nice…face."

" _Mate_ ," exclaimed Ron. "I _hardly_ think that her face was the nicest thing about her."

Hermione was utterly disgusted.

This was more-so a conversation for the boys' dormitory. In fact, it had been discussed in the boys' dormitory. Every night. And now they sought it fit to carry it over into supper.

"She had Gryffindor robes." This was the first real clue that Harry had given in days, not that he had even known who the girl was. "But I'd never seen her before."

While everyone else had spent the last few days obsessing over the tournament and who would be the champion to represent Hogwarts, Harry was obsessing over finding the girl that he had seen naked in the bathroom.

"For goodness sake, do you really notice nothing?" Piped Hermione.

Ron looked over at her, as if he was appalled that she hadn't spoken sooner. Clearly, Hermione knew something, and she was holding out on the group. A long pause ensued.

" _Well_?!" Blurted Ron. Pumpkin juice spurted from his lips.

"The new girl," Hermione answered. "She is sitting right over there." Her chin nodded to the head of the table, and they all craned their necks to have a look. The girl was sitting at the front of the hall, just staring at her plate full of untouched food.

There she was—the girl from the bath.

"…Who…?" Harry asked, trailing off at the sight of her.

"Her _name_ is Juliet d'Aragon. I've done research on her family. They're French royalty—purebloods, having attended Hogwarts since its inception. They are the only non-English to attend the school. It's rumored that the founder of their house, Forthwind d'Aragon had an affair with Rowena Ravenclaw…although…." Hermione looked distraught.

"Although what?" Asked Harry.

"… _Although_ , some texts say that it was actually Salazar Slytherin that Forthwind had had an affair with. The d'Aragons have been placed in almost every house—Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff… _Slytherin_ …over the centuries. But not once in a millennium has there ever been a d'Aragon sorted into Gryffindor house…."

"Until now," said Harry, looking on at Juliet, lost in the sheen of her tangled dark hair.

"Until now," confirmed Hermione. "She moved into the girls' dormitory after supper yesterday. She's quiet. Couldn't get a word out of her, not even a hello. Minds her own business and doesn't seem to be bothered by what anyone has to say to her."

Just then, Juliet turned her head the slightest, making eye contact with Harry. He pulled away immediately, turning back to his friends. "Listen," he said at a low voice. "When I…saw her…the other night, Snape was with her."

"You mean Snape was taking a bath with Juliet?!" Ron was horrified. Hermione whacked him on the shoulder.

"No," Harry corrected. "No, he came in when I was there and took me out of the bathroom. Like he had been standing watch at the other door or something."

"Why would Snape be standing guard for a student like that?" Asked Hermione.

Another year, another chance to be suspicious of Snape.

"I don't know, but I don't think it's any good—"

A crash echoed about the Great Hall—the clattering sound of a tossed plate quieting even the smallest of conversations. She was there, standing at the front of the hall, fists clenched tightly and jaw seething, pees and hen and potatoes strewn about the stone floor. The enter hall was staring at her, wordless. Waiting for her to do something.

Dumbledore was unmoved.

It was Professor Snape who had finally gotten up from his seat and escorted Juliet out of the Great Hall by the arm, looking even unhappier than usual. Professor Moody followed behind, limping on his staff. As they passed by towards the exit, scores of heads turned. Whispers accumulated.

" _Freak_."

" _What's got her wand in a knot?_ "

" _Completely mental._ "

" _Who's that?_ "

It went on until the grand doors to the Great Hall shut behind the three of them, then it was back to the regularly scheduled programming of mindless chatter and waiting for the dessert to appear. The three friends looked at each other in shock and awe, and gave a look among themselves that seemed to say " _Forget dessert, follow them_!"

With the teachers distracted by one another and Dumbledore reassuring Madame Maxime that this was an isolated incident by a student who was suffering from exhaustion due to a long journey in order to attend this school year, which was not entirely a lie, and that her girls were nothing but safe and secure in these walls, the three friends gathered themselves from the table and one by one, excused themselves to the restroom. Ironically, Ron did actually have to go, as the six pork sausages covered in honey gravy that he had scarfed down were not sitting well with him.

"They're starting to talk to me," he groaned, feeling a twisting in his bowels that only meant he would be on the toilet for quite some time. Hermione shooed him towards the toilet, leaving just her and Harry to follow the Professors who had escorted Juliet out of the Great Hall.

Rounding the corridor as quickly and as quietly as possible, they came upon the group a ways away, where no wandering student, visitor or otherwise, would be able to run into them at this hour. Snape had Juliet pinned against a wall, his wand to her throat. Harry and Hermione listened intently, doing their best to pick up on Snape's whispers.

"Miss d'Aragon…your intention?" Snape drawled, clearly unamused. She was seething, wriggling furiously in Snape's grasp. Mad-Eye stood watch, apparently, but seemed to be more preoccupied with taking a swig out of an oddly shaped hip flask.

"Let me go!" Juliet squirmed, her limbs clearly immobilized by some magical means. "I never asked to be here. I'm the last of His line, if you kill me now, this will all be over. That's what you want, isn't it?!" She would rather die that suffer the fate she was suffering at Hogwarts.

Mad-Eye spun around, trudging towards the girl. "Your loss, my dear, would be unthinkable at a time like this," he stated intently. Snape gave Mad-Eye a side glance.

"As much as I'd not like to admit it," Snape said. "Professor Moody is correct. Your loss at a time like this would be incredibly…regrettable. So do not make me take _permanent_ action against you, girl."

"That's an empty threat, and you and I both know that. Dumbledore wouldn't let you kill me. If he did, he would have done it already himself." Juliet kicked free of the grasp of the immobilization spell that had a hand on her and whipped around Snape's hold. In the blink of an eye, she spit at him, causing him to lose grip on his wand. She snatched it out of his hand, and then backed away, his wand now in her control. Her stance meant that she was ready to duel.

Hermione kept Harry back, who had already pulled the wand out of his robe in order to try and diffuse the situation on his own, as if he could have done anything.

"No!" Hermione hissed. "Stay here, or you'll get hurt! If she's dumb enough to take on two Hogwarts professors all by herself, then it's likely she'll be expelled, and if you get involved, that means you too!"

Before them, the duel had commenced between Juliet and Mad-Eye in a dangerous display of hexes and curses, that is, until Snape's wand began to fail Juliet, and she was struck with a simple " _Expelliarmus!_ " It took Snape all of a few seconds to retrieve his wand and stun Juliet, bringing her to her knees. He swore at her under his breath.

Mad-Eye seemed to be much more impressed as he bent over and threw the stunned student over his shoulder like a rug, hobbling away with her. The pair then vanished beyond the corridor, leaving Harry and Hermione to their own thoughts.

Ron returned from the bathroom then, claiming that he felt like a new wizard. He looked at his friends, who didn't seem to be too interested in the state of his bowels.

"What'd I miss?" he asked.

* * *

Later that evening, the Gryffindor common room was lively with mischief and chatter. A muggle-born student had brought with them a large collection of muggle records, and the Gryffindors were enjoying them with the same fervor as they would any other music in preparation for the upcoming Tri-Wizard Tournament champion selection. Tomorrow would be the day that possible contestants would be able to add their names to the Goblet of Fire, and the whole school was in a sleepless uproar.

 _Sometimes I give myself the creeps_

 _Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me_

 _It all keeps adding up_

 _I think I'm cracking up_

 _Am I just paranoid?_

 _Or am I just stoned?_

One of the older students was passing around a rather sizable bottle of rum, and there were all manners of shenanigans going on, which mostly consisted of younger students egging on the older ones to put their name in the Goblet.

"What are you, chicken shit?" Seamus Finnigan, who was obviously very drunk, asked a tall seventh year girl as he leaned into her. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Eat goblin dung."

Everyone in the vicinity laughed, even Harry and Ron, who had been absorbed in figuring out what had happened earlier in the evening with Juliet and the professors.

"She must have been expelled, that's the only explanation," Hermione reasoned. "There is no way any student would have been able to _attack a professor_ like that and still be allowed to attend classes, which haven't even started yet."

By this point, the whole house knew who Juliet d'Aragon was. The mental one that had knocked her food over in the Great Hall and had to be escorted out by not one, but _two_ professors for having a fit.

The bottle of rum had come to Harry and Ron—Hermione refused to participate—when the common room door burst open, and a very much not expelled Juliet walked through, surprisingly calmly.

The whole common room stopped and looked at her in bemusement. The only thing that could be heard was the B-side of a Green Day record playing in the corner, drawling to a slow stop when someone leaned over the record needle to stop it.

She sported a purple bruise on her cheek, about the size of Snape's fist.

Looking around, Juliet's dark eyes settled on Harry, who she recognized as the boy from the bath. Harry, who had the half empty bottle of rum in his hand, met her eyes through his glasses. She approached him, standing over him.

"Can I have some of that?" She asked.

Harry nodded his head and offered the bottle to her. Juliet took the top off the bottle and in one fluid motion, took the longest uninterrupted swig that her stomach could tolerate before the bitter sting of the dark alcohol would allow her no more. Wiping excess droplets off her mouth, Juliet realized that the entire room was looking at her.

"What?" She announced, slightly irritated that everyone was all eyes on her. It took a few seconds before the Weasley twins began to cheer her on for drinking without sputtering, and then the entire common room applauded and cheered, and a feeling of acceptance flooded the air. Someone even patted her on the back, causing her to flinch, but accept the friendly gesture before the Gryffindors went about their usual tomfoolery.

How exhausting.

Juliet slumped down into one of the sofas opposite Harry, Ron and Hermione, and curled her legs up into the cushions, making herself as small as possible. As it turned out, this was her home now, no matter how many times she tried to escape or how much she denied it. Until she could come up with a better plan or until someone came for her, which was doubtful, seeing as the only people who knew she was alive were now either dead or in Azkaban, she was to make the best of her situation.

"Uh…hi," came a voice opposite her.

Juliet glanced over.

It was the bath boy.

She breathed a grunt in response.

"Are you…uh…are you okay?" He asked.

Juliet rolled over to face him and his friends properly. Just because she had been raised by Death Eaters didn't mean she didn't have any manners. Always look at someone who's talking to you.

"Peachy."

"We saw what happened earlier, between you and Professor Snape."

"Okay."

Hermione intercepted, closing her book fully to engage in the conversation. "I think what he means to say is that we wanted to know if you're hurt, which clearly…. We saw you start a duel with a professor, and we were worried."

"I'm fine."

Juliet was clearly a person of few words.

"So…you weren't expelled?" Asked Ron, who had been brought into the loop of what had happened by his friends.

Juliet gestured to herself, as if to say, " _Do I look like I was expelled?_ "

"Fair enough," shrugged Ron.

Harry decided that if she could spit at Snape and then steal his wand and hold her own in a duel against another professor, then she was worth becoming friends with. He stuck his hand out in a friendly hand-shake gesture.

"Harry," he greeted.

Juliet nodded her head at him, leaving Harry to retract his hand.

"Juliet."

Hermione and Ron did the same and got the same greeting.

"Is this your first year here?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer.

Juliet rolled over onto her back and folded her hands on her stomach, preparing herself for questioning as if she was in a psychologist's office. "Unfortunately," she sighed, making her disdain known. "I'm a fourth year, I guess. Never been to school before now, so you can imagine I'm a bit…tense."

Hermione was almost insulted. "How have you never been to school before your fourth year?"

Juliet shrugged. "Didn't have time for it."

The three friends looked at each other a bit funny, not sure how to go about reacting to that rather vague statement. It was Harry who finally broke the silence.

"Do you have Charms for first period tomorrow? Because if so, Ron and I have it together, and you could sit with us, if you have no one else to sit with," offered Harry, mostly wanting to be polite, but also because he thought she was pretty, and very much against Hermione and Ron's wills, which was apparent due to the looks he was getting.

Juliet looked at Harry.

"You're the boy who watched me take a bath the other day, aren't you?"

Ron choked on his spit.

"I, uh—I didn't mean to, I was…—"

"You were hiding from someone. You weren't hiding from Sever—" Juliet caught herself. "You weren't hiding from _Professor_ Snape, were you?"

"N-No. I was hiding from Filch. He was coming around the corridor when I dove into the bathroom for cover," confirmed Harry, wanting to clear his name as a pervert.

Juliet nodded her head thoughtfully. "Get a good show?" She asked.

Harry flushed a beet red and began to trip over his words. Ron was still choking on his spit, and Hermione was patting him on the back.

"I'm only joking," said Juliet, getting up off the couch. "I'll take you up on that offer. It's be nice to have some…friends."

With that, Juliet took the liberty of excusing herself without actually excusing herself, and made her way to the girl's dormitory without another word.

" _Would you look at that,"_ she thought, almost smiling to herself. _"I think I've just gone and made myself some friends."_

* * *

 **I feel like a lot of people forget that these books take place in the 90's, which, I also do sometimes. Thought I'd throw in a little 90's music for ya, and also because I love old school Green Day.**


	4. Chapter 4

Charms had been an ordeal in itself.

Harry was rather confused. When motioning for Juliet to sit with himself and Ron, she shook her head and looked away, pretending not to be interested in sitting with her new friends. It was only then that he had noticed Professor Flitwick was standing over Juliet on a stack of books, his hand defensively on his wand.

It was as if the professor would not allow Juliet to sit anywhere else, which was in fact entirely correct. One of the unmentioned conditions to Juliet's incarceration at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was that she was to sit at the very front of every classroom, so that each professor could keep an eye on her, as she was in possession over her wand during class hours.

However, the problem was that every time Juliet raised her wand in order to follow along with the lesson, Professor Flitwick would cast a _Confundus_ charm, causing it to malfunction in her own hands. No one seemed to notice, and everyone just thought she was just daft.

After the most frustrating lesson she had ever had in her life, Juliet sat quietly in her seat and waited for all the other students to file out of the classroom. Harry had tried to approach her, but was shooed away by the professor.

"Away with you, don't make me write you up for being tardy to your next class," he grumbled, stopping Harry from even interacting with Juliet.

"But professor, I was just—" Harry started, trying to bypass the small wizard. Juliet didn't even look at Harry, fixating her gaze on the adjacent wall.

Professor Flitwick personally escorted Juliet to her next class, as was regulation in her case. The more she acted out, the more regulations and restrictions would be put on her. And unfortunately for her, the teachers had a free reign over what she could and could not do. Even a single toe out of line would mean serious repercussions. Especially in the case of Professor Flitwick, who she had bitten upon her capture and awakening in Dumbledore's office during her first night at Hogwarts. He was glad to pass her on to Professor Moody, who took her by the collar of her cloak and forcibly sat her down in the first chair, not even giving her the opportunity to _look_ at other students.

"Alastor Moody," he announced, scribbling his name on the chalkboard at the front of the classroom. He had everyone mortified, except Juliet, who looked bored. "Ex-auror…Ministry of Malcontent…and your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." He tossed aside his chalk, leaning heavily into Juliet's desk. She was unamused by his display.

Juliet had known Alastor Moody since she was a girl, although not in the sense that she had him over for Christmas supper. More so in the sense that he had been hunting for her hide since the day she was born into this retched world. He had been the reason for her inevitable capture, and the reason that she sat in this classroom today, breathing in the stench of his manky old coat and moldy musk. Any time that Juliet had been scared in her life, it was because of Alastor Moody. So she sat quietly for once, unmoving.

"I am here because Dumbledore asked me to, end of story—goodbye, the end!" Moody sneered, his glass eye watching Juliet carefully. She thought about spitting at him, but held her tongue. It occurred to her that if she was so afraid of Moody, then the other students must be terrified.

"When it comes to the Dark Arts," he continued. "I believe in a practical approach. But first, which of you can tell me how many unforgivable curses there are?" He took up his chalk again and began writing furiously on the board.

Juliet groaned inwardly. She knew exactly what he was doing—he was making an example of her.

She had been raised by one Death Eater after another, all with a greater affinity for teaching her dark magic than the last. By the time she could hold a wand, growing a daisy out of the ground was no different than torturing someone.

Hermione spoke up, a squeak in her voice as she explained that these curses were unforgivable. Moody agreed, stating that the use of any one of these curses would land you a one-way ticket to Azkaban. That is, if you were any normal witch or wizard. The only person to have mastered and performed all three curses by school age was sitting in the front row of that very room, her hands tucked neatly into themselves.

She had been nine years old at the time, and Alastor Moody had hunted her and her keeper down to a caravan they had been staying with in the south of Spain, near the Mediterranean. Juliet, her arms no bigger than the wand they held onto, had tortured him with the _Cruciatus_ curse for close to an hour before his re-enforcements arrived, causing her and her keeper to flee by broom over the sea and towards Morocco, where they would lie in hiding for nearly two years after that. Lucky for them, Morocco was a bustling hub for dark magic at the time.

Her poor mother was somewhere rolling over in the shallow ditch she was buried in.

By the time she was done day dreaming, Juliet had come back to reality only to find the entire class silent, and Professor Moody asking if anyone could give him the final unforgivable curse. No one dare even move.

The dark wizard catcher leaned in close to Juliet's face, breathing heavily on her skin.

"Perhaps Miss d'Aragon here could give me the final, end-all curse," he said in a low tone. "You're rather familiar with it, aren't you, my dear?"

Her teeth ground against themselves almost instantaneously.

"Get the fuck out of my face, Alastor," she spat, unhappy with the fact that he was trying to take the piss out of her. He shrugged, moving on past her, taking his little creature with him before coming to the desk of Hermione, who had been so nice to Juliet the night before.

"I suppose you, then, Miss Granger?"

Hermione shook her head, nearly in tears.

Juliet stood up from her seat, taking the wand from its place in her robe. "Leave her alone!" She insisted, but her plea fell on deaf ears and the wave of a hand that forced her to keep back.

" _Avada Kadavra_."

The creature died there, on the top of Hermione's book.

"The killing curse," Moody announced, almost solemnly. "Only one person is known to have survived it…and he's sitting in this room…" Hobbling away from the dead creature and the very teary-eyed Hermione, Professor Moody made his way over to Harry, looking down at the boy in his seat.

Juliet's eyes darted between Harry and Hermione as she pieced together what was being said.

" _Harry… Harry…_ Potter _,"_ she thought, remembering the name. " _The boy who lived."_ But for the life of her, Juliet was unable to place where or why she had heard it. As a young girl, the scattered remnants of Death Eaters that raised her hadn't exactly bothered to inform her of every little detail, seeing that she was being hunted from Beijing to Buenos Aires.

"Miss d'Aragon, take your seat. I'll be having a word with you. The rest of you, you're dismissed," Announced professor Moody with the lazy wave of an arm, too busy with taking a swig from his now famed hip flask.

As the class gathered themselves and left quietly, Harry and Juliet maintained eye contact. He somehow asked her if she was going to be okay, and she responded that he shouldn't worry about her, but to just keep an eye out for Hermione. Once the class filed out, Professor Moody was no longer Professor Moody, but Alastor to Juliet.

"That was right fowl of you doing that to her," she spat angrily. "You've become an even harder sod since the last time you and I tangoed, Alastor."

"Oh, _really_? Do you think I should have taken mercy on Miss Granger, Miss d'Aragon?" He suggested, slamming his large hands down in her desk, causing her to jump. "Do you think that your _father_ , the Dark Lord, would have taken mercy on a filthy mud-blood like Miss Granger?"

No longer in the care of Death Eaters, Juliet was free to speak as she willed.

"There is nothing wrong with being muggle born. A witch is a witch and a wizard is a wizard."

Moody actually laughed.

"That is easy for you to say, isn't it, you pure-blooded little tripe. I suppose you get that idea from your mother's side. No wonder her remains are rotting in a shallow ditch somewhere."

"That's a lie," Juliet hissed. "My mother isn't dead because of her beliefs. My mother is dead because Albus Dumbledore put her in the ground."

Moody was impressed.

"Oh, so the fairy princess Miss Juliet d'Aragon knows the whole truth, does she? You know that before you were born, your whore of a mother got on her knees and begged for your safety from Dumbledore, and he turned her away. And when you finally squeezed your way out of her up tight little cunt, she took off with you back to France, cowering in your family's little castle while you sucked on her teet, too afraid to face the commitment she had made to the Dark Lord."

Juliet stood up, her face centimeters from Moody's.

"Don't _talk_ about my mother like that, you washed up hack," she hissed, pressing her wand against his throat. "One more word, and you and I both know that I have more magic in one finger than you have in your whole being. Because might I remind you, I am _His_ daughter. And as _His_ daughter, there will come a day when I am as great as He is."

"An empty threat, Miss d'Aragon," Moody sneered, brushing aside her wand. "You are but a baby of fourteen, and any magic you have is yet to be unleashed. Now, away with you!" He waved her out of his classroom, and she was glad to go. Gathering her books and tossing them in her bag haphazardly, Juliet walked briskly out of the door at the back of the room, thinking only of how she was going to end the life of Alastor Moody.

Until she bumped into Harry, who had been waiting for her outside of the classroom.

"What's the matter with you?!" She questioned as she briskly continued to walk past him, referring to the fact that he had been waiting for her. "Here to _escort_ me to the Great Hall?"

"Uh, no. I was just…. Are you alright?" He did his best to keep up with her, but it seemed that she was being fueled by pure rage.

"I'm fantastic."

"What did Professor Moody say to you?"

Juliet ignored his question. She had had enough of people at this school questioning her.

"Where are your friends? Go bother one of them instead."

Harry grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her mid-motion. Juliet had really had enough of people grabbing her.

"Will you just hold on for one moment," he pleaded. "You seem to really get into it with professors. Is there something that makes you different than everyone else here?"

And there it was, the question that she had been waiting for, but that no one had asked yet because they were all too scared of how mental she was. She wrenched herself from his grasp. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Well…yeah. I mean, we are friends…. Tell you what, why don't you just come hang out in the Great Hall with me, Ron and Hermione? We were going to watch the older students put their names in the Goblet of Fire. It'll be fun."

Harry put his hand out to her in a gentle gestured, hoping that she would take it and they could walk together.

He was so gentle.

So kind.

Juliet began to feel dizzy at the thought of someone being so kind to her. So dizzy, that she found herself reaching her hand out to his, and then taking it. He smiled at her with closed lips, and they walked.

* * *

The Great Hall was full of students just hanging out, fooling around, and clapping for those brave enough to put their names in the Goblet of Fire. With each name dropped in, the fire would burn brighter in a fantastic display of heat.

Harry and Ron watched more closely, standing with other Gryffindors and chatting about who they think would be chosen, laughing at Fred and George's antic of trying to put their own names in the cup after drinking an aging potion. Juliet sat with Hermione on the nearby bench, who was skimming a book placed neatly on her lap.

"I don't get it," Juliet said to Hermione, genuine confusion in her voice. "Why do people act dim witted like that?"

Juliet, who had been taught only survival skills and Dark Arts her entire life, had been left without the idea of what it was like to not take life too seriously. Something that the Weasley Twins were well-versed in.

Hermione laughed, prepared to answer the question when the room went near silent.

Through the double doors came a posse of Durmstrang students, lead by none other than the heavy weight Victor Krum, and followed in tow by their Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff. Juliet slumped down in her seat, taking the sleeve of her robe and using it to shield herself from the nose down. There were some people that she would rather not be seen by.

Krum approached the cup, and without another breath, flicked the parchment with his name into the fire. He met eyes with Hermione, who blushed, before promptly taking leave just as quickly as he enetered. Juliet was the only one to see this, and gave Hermione a little shove on the shoulder.

"The tall one that looks like a boulder, he fancies you," she whispered.

"What?!" Hermione choked, not believing what had just been said to her. "How would you know something like that."

"I just know these things. I'm rather… _gifted_ …at being able to read people upon first glance."

The two giggled together, marking the first time that Juliet felt like a real teenage witch.

Much to her dismay, the feeling would not last very long.

* * *

 **Hello all, so I'm not exactly following the time line of the books, but that's because I have a lot I want to write and I'm giving myself very little space to do just that. This chapter was a bit short and uneventful, but at least you got some background on Juliet, and ahhhhh Harry and Juliet are holding haaaaaannnndddsssss.**

 **More to come! Please let me know what you think? Or don't? That's cool too.**


	5. Chapter 5

By the end of the week, Juliet had nestled in almost well to her imprisonment at Hogwarts, the idea of which she distained. In order to take her mind off of it, she spent her so called "free time"—meaning, the time in which she was not escorted around the castle like a new born pup that was about to take a piss on an antique rug—with Harry, Ron and Hermione, who, admittedly, were just as interesting as any Tibetan sorcerer or Armenian alchemist she had ever met.

The three of them laughed at each other's' jokes.

They smiled.

They had stories to tell.

Pranks to pull.

Studying to do.

Letters to write.

Music to sing along to.

More friends to introduce her to.

There was Seamus, who had a particularly concerning proclivity for pyrotechnics—regardless, she had always loved the sight of fireworks, even when they weren't meant to go off in the common room.

Dean, who was tall and lanky and usually had very nice chats with Juliet about Muggle football, of which she was increasingly familiar, albeit not with European teams. Sometimes she would even humor him by having a go at it with him and a very old looking football. The way she was able to balance it on her calves and throw it around with her ankles astounded Ron and Ginny, who weren't so familiar with the sport.

Juliet thought that Ginny was sweet, and she was the only one who could get so near to Juliet, that she was able to braid her long dark hair for fun.

It was something like a circus to watch, not because it was unruly, but because it was…normal.

How interesting.

The only thing that had been hard for Juliet to avoid explaining was meeting with Snape every night for her mandatory _check-ins_ , and the occasional battering she came back with in the morning after she had given him lip. Snape tried to keep clear of her face, but Juliet could be so insufferable sometimes.

What really went on at these _check-ins_ was less discussion about how she was doing in her charms class and more so taking a beating when she wouldn't answer questions about the whereabouts of ex-Death Eater Sir So-And-So or Madame Whats-It, because really, she had no idea.

"Where the bloody hell do you go all by yourself at night?" Asked Ron one evening as the four of them sat sprawled out in the Gryffindor common room, laboring over a potions essay. Two rolls of parchment on Murtlap Essence. Ron and Harry grumbled throughout the task, but Juliet supposed it was helpful to do the research, seeing as Murtlap Essence was used to soothe painful cuts and the sorts. "You're going to get caught eventually."

Juliet just shrugged and ignored the question, looking at the extensive list of ingredients in her potions book. A wizard in Ghana had taught her to use clay from the earth to treat her wounds. Using the tentacles of a Murtlap sounded silly and tedious at first.

Just because she had been accepted into this little circle and marveled at the well-mannered way they treated her didn't mean that she entirely trusted the three of them, and nor did it mean that she was allowed to tell them anything, anyway.

But as soon as Snape had come to know of her friendliness with Potter and his friends, he became livid, and even took it so far as to call on Dumbledore when he was alone in his private study.

"Miss d'Aragon," He wouldn't even look at her wriggling figure, restrained tightly in the same chair she bled on during her first night at Hogwarts. "Your first week here has come and gone, and I trust that you've been as civil as possible with the staff, as well as the fact that you've attended every check-in with your keeper, Professor Snape…. It has come to my attention that you've made quite an unusual group of friends."

Dumbledore was lying, he wasn't surprised that Juliet had made friends with Harry, Ron and Hermione at all. They were kind, and Juliet didn't fit in. It was a non-zero-sum game.

Juliet wondered why it was that Snape enjoyed ratting out students so much, and more specifically, why he enjoyed treating her like vermin.

"Did someone tell you to seek these three out?" Dumbledore asked very seriously, finally looking at her.

Back to reality.

Oh, so they meant something to old Dumbley-dore.

"No," she answered. "Everyone I have ever known is dead. You know that."

She had been quite fond of her last protector—the one that had been killed in Australia. He had lasted the longest out of any of them, and Juliet had been so fond of him, and she had begun to see him like a real parental figure.

"My dear child, I will make this very clear for you." Dumbledore sat on the corner of his desk, taking his hands and folding them into themselves on his lap. "I understand that you have ill will towards myself because of what happened to your mother, and subsequently, what happened to you. But if you intend to hurt any of these students, my colleagues and I will not hesitate to turn you over to the authorities at Azkaban."

"I'm not going to hurt anyone, not unless they try to hurt me first." She assured, referring to the fights that she had instigated with professors almost on the daily. In the past few days, she hadn't even bitten a single teacher, and prided herself on this good behavior.

Dumbledore pondered for a moment, thoughtfully touching the end hairs of his beard. "Miss d'Aragon, you feel trapped here, do you not? Used to being free to wander towns and villages on your own, traveling the world; walking, speaking, living without fear of—"

"I'm not afraid of anything," she interjected. Except Alastor Moody, but she opted to keep that to herself.

"Of course you're not. Neither was I at your age. But, we all must fear something Miss d'Aragon. This is what makes us whole."

"What do you think I'm afraid of?"

"You are afraid of being trapped—trapped in the same cycle of events, with the same kind of people. You are afraid of being caged." Dumbledore wasn't Headmaster of Hogwarts for any reason. He was the Headmaster because he was talented, and most importantly, thoughtful. "That is why I see it fit to lift the restrictions that have been placed on you. Your appointments with Professor Snape shall continue, but only when necessary. In addition, you have free range of the grounds during all hours, albeit, without a wand or a broom. That rule still stands."

Snape almost had an aneurysm.

Juliet narrowed her eyes.

"Why?"

"You are not an animal, Miss d'Aragon. There is no use in trying to put you on a leash. In that sense, you remind me of your mother. She was a free spirit—someone who loved the whole wide world: the sun, the moon and all stars and the mountains, and rivers; the good men, the bad men, and all the animals, and the insects—the whole bit. It would be a disgrace to her memory if this was how her only daughter was being treated."

"Professor Dumbledore, it would be criminal of me not to share my opinion: this is a horrible idea," Snape drawled.

Dumbledore merely put a hand up to silence him.

"A very powerful magical ward has been placed on the grounds. In the event that you were to attempt to go beyond the boundaries set in place for you, you will immediately be petrified. Do I make myself clear?"

"Is the option for Azkaban still up on the table?" Juliet asked before she could be cut off. "Because I really think—"

"Excellent! Now then, shall we go off to the Great Hall together? There is a very important decision to be made that the whole school has been waiting for, and I am sure that there are friends waiting for you, Miss d'Aragon."

A wave of his hand, and the binding of her limbs had come undone.

" _I should learn how to do that,"_ Juliet mentally noted.

Juliet followed Professor Dumbledore to the Great Hall as a greatly unhappy Snape stalked off, still carrying the notion that this was not a very good idea.

Upon entering, there were friendly waves from the Gryffindor table, gesturing Juliet over. Dumbledore encouraged her quietly to go off and sit with them.

Juliet was formally introduced to the two red headed twins, Fred and George, who she had asked Hermione about the other day—the ones who she thought were funny.

Fred was immediately smitten and attempted to flirt with Juliet by means of taking her hand in his.

She nearly broke his fingers.

Over the babbling of the hundreds of students, Dumbledore silenced the crowd from the front of the hall with the lowering of his arms. Even the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang quieted themselves, although some very small whispers could still be heard. Juliet could make out some French conversation from the Ravenclaw table behind them, where a handful of Beauxbatons girls had made themselves comfortable. Although she had not had a chance to engage in conversation in a long time, French was her mother's native tongue.

It was nice to listen to, even if most of it was criticism about the décor.

"Students!" Dumbledore began, the delegation of teachers at the head table nearly gripping their seats with anticipation. However, Barty Crouch's toothbrush mustache looked like it was about to slip off of his face with unease. He was looking around for someone.

Years ago, when You-Know-Who had been defeated and the Death Eaters had all either been scrambled or imprisoned, there were some rumors about a baby girl. A handful of Death Eaters had offered it up as information in exchange for their freedom from Azkaban, and with the disappearance of Estella Marielle d'Aragon, it all seemed to be something that the Ministry should have investigated. The task got passed around from one office to another, but there had just been one too many disappearances and tragedies to investigate at the time, and it was ultimately lost in paperwork somewhere.

But here she was, thirteen years later.

It was the girl, the one Dumbledore had told him about.

The one with a face like her mother's, but eyes like her father's.

The one who was sitting next to the absolute worst person she could have been sitting next to.

The one who had caught his beady little eyes and matched their gaze, causing him to falter in his disposition.

"Tonight, three champions from each of our respective schools—Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and our very own Hogwarts, shall be selected to compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. These three champions will be selected by an impartial judge to compete in three very dangerous tasks that will test their skill, cunning and bravery..."

A shining goblet, some very impressive pyrotechnics, and three champions later, Juliet was ready to get up and leave. There was a collection of homework on her bed that needed to be done, and the fact that she hadn't learned to read and write until only a few years ago didn't make it any easier, as this made her a bit slower than everyone else. She didn't really care for the assignments, but if she showed up emptyhanded to her classes, Professor Snape would very literally ring her neck…again.

Juliet's mind had wandered off elsewhere when another name started to drift into her ear.

"Harry Potter…"

Her head lifted from its slouched position in her hand.

"Harry Potter!"

Juliet, and the entirety of the rest of the hall, looked wide-eyed at Harry, who didn't seem to want to look at anyone at all—that is, until Hermione pleaded with him to get up from his seat.

As Harry was swept through the side door of the Great Hall, Professor Moody got up from his seat at the head of the Great Hall. He clanked loudly and violently with his staff down to the Gryffindor table.

Juliet nearly groaned with realization.

"Come now girl," he grumbled, taking Juliet by the arm. "This isn't going to be pretty no matter how you look at it, so you might as well come quietly."

Hermione stood up defensively, her face flustered and panicked. One friend had just been taken from her by a _cup_ , for crying out loud, and now another one was being hauled off with some sort of convoluted threat. This simply would not stand with her, nor any of the other nearby Gryffindors—Fred and George, Seamus and even Dean and Ginny. Protests began as several rude words were hurled, until Professor McGonagall quickly made her way over and settled them down.

"Mr. Weasely and Mr. Weasely, you will stay in your seats! And you Miss Granger," she said sternly. "I expect better from you. Anymore of this nonsense, and ten points will be taken from Gryffindor— _each_."

Seats were taken immediately.

Juliet was hauled to Professor Dumbledore's study so quickly, she was tripping over her own feet.

She was shoved through the doors of the Headmaster's office and thrown down to the floor. In front of her was the bickering group of Headmasters, Ministry officials and the controversial champion in question, Harry.

She did her best not to look him in the face.

"O, anozer one! Now we 'ave _three_ 'Ogwarts champions!" Madame Maxime threw up her hands and began to swear in French. She had been more concerned with the fact that Hogwarts got to have two champions instead of one, and less so with the fact that Harry was underage.

Dumbledore remained in his composure.

If Harry had not put his name in the Goblet of Fire, and he had not asked any of the older students to do it for him, then—

"Only an exceptionally powerful _Confundus_ charm could have hoodwinked a magical object such as the Goblet of Fire," stated Moody, who had one prosthetic foot clamped down on the hem of Juliet's skirt. His magical eye held her glare.

Juliet could perform exceptionally powerful _Confundus_ charms.

"Cheers, Alastor. I don't suppose that would be me you're thinking of?" Juliet muttered incredulously.

She was ultimately ignored.

"You seem to have given this quite a bit of thought, haven't you?" Spat Karkaroff, his face much too close to Moody's for comfort.

"It was once my job to think as dark witches and wizards do…don't you ever forget that," Moody growled under his breath menacingly. "Maybe we should consider one in our midst."

"Alastor," Dumbledore warned. "That's enough."

Albus Dumbledore commanded respect in the wizarding world, and that included in his own study. The aged wizard spoke clearly, his inflection dangerously calm. He wouldn't even look at Juliet, who was longingly picturing herself driving knives into his back.

"Miss d'Aragon, did you put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire?"

The adults in the room were all very confused as to why Dumbledore would suspect this girl as the one who manipulated the Goblet. They remained silent to hear her reaction.

Madame Maxime held Fleur close.

Karkaroff stood defensively in front of Viktor.

Even Cedric, who stood on his own with his arms crossed, remained close to the Hogwarts teachers present.

The visiting ministry officials—Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman—had mixed reactions. Barty Crouch was sweating. Ludo Bagman, on the other hand, had a different approach. He was trying to make his way into the encirclement of bodies to eagerly get a good look at the girl in question. This kind of thing was really so exciting—students really getting into the spirit of sport! He would have started a celebratory dance if it wasn't for the fact that the buttons on his old quidditch uniform he had donned—yellow and black, like a honeybee—would have come flying off if he did.

Juliet was met with Ludo's beer belly poking out from the modest crowd of people. She scrunched her nose in disgust, before turning her head towards Dumbledore. Electing not to answer him, Juliet stared in distain.

That was all he needed from her.

"Alastor," barked Dumbledore. "Take Miss d'Aragon and leave. Barty, feel free to join them."

Barty Crouch's mustache was looking rather precarious again, as if it was going to slide off his face with fright.

Moody grunted in response, taking Juliet up off the floor by the arm.

However, it seemed as if Juliet was not going to go without a fight. She started screaming and thrashing about, like an animal that knows it's being led to slaughter.

Harry, who had been vegetizing in the corner up until now, had absolutely no intention of letting Juliet suffer. He took one step in Juliet's fleeting direction as she was very literally wrangled by half a dozen Hogwarts professors, but was stopped by Professor Dumbledore, who held out a wrinkled hand.

"Let it be, Harry," he said.

The rest of the group, including the other champions, were escorted out in the opposite direction so that they did not have to follow the racket Juliet was making in the corridor. Professor McGonagall promised that all questions would be answered in due time. She put on an excellent _'Screaming girl? What screaming girl? I don't hear anything'_ face for the visitors. The only person who really seemed to buy into it was Bagman and perhaps Krum, but as it would have it, the latter party's head was full of sawdust, so anything someone told him usually made sense to him, anyway.

"But Professor, she's my friend. Why do you think she put my name in the Goblet of Fire?"

Dumbledore held up a hand again and put another on the boy's shoulder.

"Harry, this is neither the time nor place to discuss this sort of thing. Why Miss d'Aragon is here should not be any of your concern. What needs to be your concern at this time is the Tournament. I'm afraid to say that I have consulted with Mr. Crouch, and the rules are absolute—you must compete. Go to bed now. I will send Professor Moody 'round on Monday to discuss with you what should be done."

Dumbledore knew this excellent bit of magic. It was a spell in which while he talked, the two had gotten closer and closer to the door, until finally the Headmaster had seen Harry out of the room, and closed the door behind him.

Harry was left alone in the corridor.

Somewhere in the distance, he could hear faint screams.


End file.
